


Sign 02: He knows cuddles are important

by TerresDeBrume



Series: Signs he's a keeper [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerresDeBrume/pseuds/TerresDeBrume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like Loki is turning into one of those overworked mothers you see on TV. Fortunately, Tony doesn’t sound like he really minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sign 02: He knows cuddles are important

On the whole -and Loki is pretty certain most people will agree with him- changing diapers sucks.  
Okay, so that’s probably not the beginning readers would be expecting, but if he is ever to write his autobiography, there will be a full page -perhaps more- about how changing diapers sucks, even more so when your kid is two and unusually fascinated with human feces. All in all, having a sh—poop stain on his T-shirt isn’t all that unnusual for a Saturday around one in the afternoon, even if generally speaking, it’s food Fenrir throws at him.  
  
What is different though, is the fact that Loki is sicker than he ever remembers being, sniffing his miserable way through boxes and boxes of tissues and trying to keep his nose away from Fenrir as much as he can, wondering whether or not wearing a surgical mask would really be that stupid, after all. Loki has always hated being sick, not the least because Odin, Thor and Frigga are remarkably healthy people and he doesn’t remember seeing them with anything worse than a cold.  
(Well, there was that one hunting accident that sent Odin off to the hospital and took his eye, but then that’s not an illness so it doesn’t really count.)  
  
Plus, Loki knows his science -and his luck- and in his experience, it seems his being sick is always -always- an unspoken signal for life to start piling shit on him, meaning that of course his refrigerator died today, of course Ororo got sick and won’t be able to come in tonight as she promised, meaning that _of course_ Loki’s social life has to be shoved to the back burner yet again.  
Now, like a majority of parents, Loki loves his kid… he doesn’t quite know how that happened, because it’s only been about eight months and he didn’t think he was able to get attached so fast, but he does love Fenrir and he’d kill for him already. But.  
But, Loki is still, unfortunately, human and alive, and as much as he thinks he doesn’t have time for a relationship right now he wants to get laid, damnit! Just the knowledge that Coyote, Bastet and Anansi are out and hunting tonight is making his skin crawl with envy and his teeth grit with the need to not spill completely inappropriate confessions in Fenrir’s ears.  
  
He’s butchering  _Paint it Black_ , rocking Fenrir through the appartment with increasingly heavy arms when the doorbell rings, and he almost wants to cry.  
  
(Fun fact: being irritated and irrationally sensitive and-or angry is not, apparently, just for women. In the eight months he’s spent with Fenrir, Loki has discovered previously unsuspected reserves of stress, tears, anger and other consequences of general oversensitivity, balanced only by his surprising ability to feel excited when Fenrir managed to stick his big toe in his mouth two days ago. He is, in short, turning into something very much like the stereotype of a hormonal woman, and there are times when it makes him reconsider his position on infanticide.  
  
Seriously, how the human race survived this long without prozac or coffee is a mystery to him.)  
  
  
“Wow,” Tony says when Loki opens the door, Fenrir finally dosing off on his shoulder, “You look like crap.”  
  
He takes great care not to let the door slam when he closes it in Tony’s face.  
  
It’s not even that he likes being rude -he was prepared to make an effort for whoever was on the other side of the door and, if he’s going to be honest with himself, probably more than that for Tony. Except, you know, oversensitive parent here. He’s tired and he has bags under red-rimmed eyes, he’s snotty, he’s got a trace of shit the size of his palm on his favorite  _Star Wars_ shirt, and although he’s taken good care not to look at his hair in the mirror, he simply can’t ignore the tangled mess sitting against the back of his neck. Loki knows he looks like shit, and the reminder really doesn’t help.  
He’s pulling the cover up on Fenrir when Tony’s steps echo in the corridor, and it reminds Loki of his last visit, two months ago. It didn’t start off all that well back then either but it got better starting from that point, so perhaps Loki can still hope, after all.  
  
“Okay so, that wasn’t my best opener,” Tony admits, “but at least I didn’t accuse you of attempted infanticide this time?”  
  
Loki would snort if his nose wasn’t too clogged up to allow for even that… but hey, blame Tony’s apologetic smile, or Loki’s level of energy, but he doesn’t even think about trying to get the other man out. He’s too busy dying to feel up to the challenge.  
  
“Aren’t you going to ask me how it went in Taiwan?” Tony asks with a disappointed pout.  
“You gave me a step by step report,” he manages between sniffles, mouth hanging open to allow him to breathe.  
“It wasn’t very thorough,” Tony protests.  
“Enough to text me about the twin mannequins you’d taken into your bed. I hope you were drunk, by the way.”  
  
It’s funny because Loki can almost feel Tony tense behind him, as if insulted… and maybe he is, now that Loki thinks about it. Given how many times Tony hinted at sex during their two-months acquaintance, he must have a particularly active sex life and, while it’s more widely accepted in men than in women, that doesn’t mean nobody disapproves. It’s highly possible he’s gotten more than a few comment on that before.  
  
“You know,” Tony starts with an irritated huff, “Just because I have an active sex life….”  
“I was talking about your disregard for timezones,” Loki says as he finishes pouring milk into a freshly retrieved cooking pot. “You’re not the only one who likes having some bedroom activity.”  
“Why,” Tony asks, switching in flirtatious mode in less than the blink of an eye, “Is it where the abs come from?”  
  
Loki frowns, pretty certain Tony never saw any part of his skin beyond face and hands, and looks down at himself… only to realize he’s still wearing his stained T-shirt.  
  
“Oh my god!”  
  
He doesn’t bother excusing himself before he dashes to the bathroom, slipping his shirt off as he walks, followed by Tony’s chuckling. Of course, once in the bathroom, he realizes he doesn’t have any clean shirt left and that’s when his nerves kind of… snap. He doesn’t even want to do it because it’s been -amazingly enough- months since he last time he hit a wall and snapped his fingers against it, but hey, he’s been on the verge of it for a while now, and it’s not like he can’t talk about it in therapy later on.  
  
(People always assume he hits walls because he doesn’t want to hit someone. He never quite manages to explain that he’s actually doing it for the pain it creates in his knuckles.)  
  
“Ice cubes are a good substitute for that,” Tony tells him from the doorway. “I wanted to see if you were alright, and you didn’t think of closing the door so... yeah. Like I said… ice cubes. Press them in your hand when you’re angry. Apparently it helps.”  
“It scares people,” Loki tells him.  
  
He remembers the look on Sigyn’s face every time he did hit walls, even after she’d accepted that he wasn’t going to hurt her. She looked concerned and scared for him and that’s… not a look Loki likes to see on his loved ones face. The ice cubes are marginally better, it’s true -at least people aren’t afraid for their safety… but it still freaks them out, which is why Loki avoids doing anything of the sort in public if he can.  
  
“Yeah well,” Tony shrugs, “Better that than throw empty bottles of booze at their head if you ask me.”  
  
Loki’s giggle as he turns the cold water tap on may or may not be a little hysterical. Then again, he just smashed his own fist against a wall hard enough to crack the skin so, you know. Perspective. Besides, he’s allowed to be slightly hysterical when a man who just discovered his anger issues answers not only with complete acceptance and calm but also happens to understand what it’s like to have demons. It’s not the same, of course -not two minds are eve completely the same.  
It still makes Loki sigh in relief and slump against the wall, letting himself fall to the ground. Tony smiles, something worn soft by time and one Loki guesses he doesn’t use often -it may or may not make butterflies spring to life in the vicinity of his stomach- and then there’s a warm, wool-clad body next to Loki on the floor, Tony’s head hunched toward his neck because of the slightly cramped space under the sink.  
  
They look ridiculous, Loki is certain of it, what with the awkward position and his own slowly-spreading grin, but he still chuckles.  
  
“Better than yell at Fenrir, too,” he sighs. “He’s a kid, he’s supposed to be exhausting and whiny and time-consuming, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t relish his naptimes.”  
  
That brings a laugh out of Tony, and then there’s a warm arm around Loki’s shoulders. He doesn’t even think twice about leaning against the shorter man, freeing some space for Tony in the process. He is, of course, a little amazed by the level of comfort he’s managed to reach with Tony already when they’ve barely seen each other a few days since New Year’s Eve -though if they at least lived in the same state, they’d have met a lot more often than that, Loki knows. Sometimes geography just blows.  
They stay huddled like that for a long moment, until Loki yawns and mumbles:  
  
“‘M falling asleep. Should move.”  
  
Tony’s chest rumbles with his quiet laughter, and when he moves his arm to readjust his position, Loki can’t help but press closer to the warmth of his skin, cold despite a very efficient heating system.  
  
  
(He wakes up -in his bed- to the sound of Fenrir calling for him with a post-it note stuck to his forehead.  
  
 _Had to go, plane departing. Moving to NY next month. Movie then?_  
  
The rest of the day seems to fly by after that.)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and reviews are appreciated, both here or, if you'd like to remain anonymous, [on Tumblr](http://terresdebrumestories.tumblr.com/ask) <3


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